


Extracurricular

by Vesiel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Codependency, Consensual Violence, Dom/sub, Gunplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, someone call 1-800-jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesiel/pseuds/Vesiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse knew the song well and he and Reyes danced its dangerous steps in precise, learned movements. (Blackwatch era McReaper. Heed the tags.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extracurricular

It always came to push and pull, give and take, conflict and resolution.

Jesse knew the song well and he and Reyes danced its dangerous steps in precise, learned movements. It was always quick, messy, and edging against some invisible line--and despite knowing its inevitability, Jesse found himself aching for it all the same, until his fluttering heartbeat came not from the mission itself but from the anticipation of what happens after.

The brief noted that their target was an illegal weapons racket in Milan. He never knew the bureaucratic details of their missions--that information was reserved for Reyes only, and Jesse preferred it that way. The less he knew, the better he felt. All he _had_ to know was that the job required efficiency and discretion like every other Blackwatch raid, which was his style anyway, and it made the extracurricular activities easier.

Blackwatch had its perks after all.

Their platoon boarded the transport in silence, everyone too invested in the job to pay each other much mind. Well, everyone except himself and Reyes. All Jesse did the whole excruciating hour aboard the hovercraft was return Reyes’ stare, his dark brows set low and his lips drawn into a disinterested line beneath his mustache. Jesse felt his gaze even when he turned to escape it, felt it picking and peeling him apart despite Reyes’ otherwise unreadable expression. When Reyes shot that look to trainees and subordinates, it was to browbeat them into submission. It meant the same and yet something else entirely when he gave it to Jesse, and knowing that made his breath hitch.

The dance had begun--slow, quiet, yet burning all the same.

* * *

“Mate? You alright?” A thick Australian accent jolted Jesse back to reality.

He found himself in a large warehouse, standing among the bodies of the smugglers with Peacekeeper tight in his grip. The other Blackwatch agents were already loading the stolen cargo onto the hovercraft and blowing off steam with cigarettes and chatter. Somewhere at the beginning of the mission--he wasn’t sure of the exact moment--he entered his usual trance, so focused on his aim and his movements that he lost himself.

Jesse blinked and holstered his revolver, trying his best to appear aloof and not like he just snapped out a daydream. “I’m fine,” he muttered as he stuffed a cigarillo between his lips and lit it. Before he could stop himself he added, “Where’s Reyes?”

If the cadet was phased by the inquiry, he didn’t show it. “Last I heard, he was stalking ‘round the back, sniffing out stragglers.” He thrust a thumb towards a dimly-lit corrugated gate and Jesse felt himself moving towards it before he thought to say _thanks_ or _see you_. Like a moth to a flame. Jesse couldn’t hate himself for being so predictable.

He walked through the gate and stepped out into the humid night air, the voices of the others dulled to a murmur. He looked around and found no sign of Reyes. Jesse puffed on his cigarillo, blew out the smoke through his nostrils, and approached a dark, quiet section of the wall, away from the fluorescent lights.

He waited. And waited. And waited some more, every second dripping like molasses.

Minutes passed and doubts began to swim in his head--maybe Reyes had forgotten. Maybe Jesse was being punished for something, and Reyes intended on standing him up. Maybe Reyes simply wasn’t in the mood anymore. Whatever it was, _Reyes_ was taking too long to get to where Jesse needed him to be. With a disappointed click of his tongue, he spat out his now-spent cigarillo, crushed it beneath his heel, and turned towards the gate.

 _Click._ The cold bite of a gun barrel against the back of his neck set his body alight once more. Jesse froze.

“Would you believe me if I told you the safety was off?” That voice--a thick, heavy drawl, especially when he was trying to be quiet--filled Jesse equally with excitement and dread. He closed his eyes in a moment of relief before beginning his part of their dance.

“Should I?” The sarcasm in Jesse’s tone was blunted by his breathlessness, like a dog in heat baring her teeth. He suppressed a groan when the gun pushed his head forward, his hat falling off at the sudden motion. He couldn’t see Reyes but he could smell him, thick with sweat and bodily odor from the physical exertion of their mission, and that was all he needed. He was here at last, tangible and real, and that was all that _mattered_.

“You know the drill, whelp. Down.”

He heeded the command immediately, falling to his armor-padded knees with a dull _thump_. Jesse stared at the muddy ground in front of him and thought about how much better it was to be wanted on his knees than forgotten on his feet. After years of aimless wandering and trying to carve out a place in the world, to be saved by Gabriel Reyes gave his life some sorely-needed order, even if his salvation came at a price. Jesse knew where he stood from the moment Reyes plucked him from Deadlock, and just _knowing_ was a relief.

The pressure on the back of his neck disappeared and Reyes stalked around him, although all Jesse could see of him was his boots. He didn’t dare lift his head, not until the shotgun pushed against his forehead and forced his neck back. Reyes’ face was covered in shadow and utterly unreadable, but Jesse knew he was staring back at him, brown meeting gray.

“Almost got yourself killed earlier,” Reyes chided as his weapon followed a trail down the side of Jesse’s face, the metal scratching against the scruff of his sideburns. He pressed the barrel against Jesse’s bottom lip and played with it, moving the pink flesh around with cold steel. “You put yourself into one of those trances again, made dumb mistakes, didn’t pay attention to what was going on around you. I saved your ungrateful spine _twice_. You let yourself get flanked, like the amateur you are.”  The gun moved again, this time pushing against Jesse’s chin and forcing his swollen lip down. “This can’t go unpunished.”

Jesse wanted so badly to say _yes_ but that wasn’t how this game was played.

“Your fault for savin’ me. You like me too much, y’know that?” Jesse’s mouth twitched into a smile that he knew wouldn’t last.

A lash of pain snapped across his face when Reyes backhanded him. His vision blotched, the world spun around him, and fresh blood trickled out of his right nostril. Before Jesse could recover, Reyes’ large hand twisted in his scalp and forced his face against his rapidly-hardening bulge. The gun moved from his chin up to its initial position on his forehead. Jesse inhaled when he noticed that Reyes was no longer practicing proper trigger discipline, index finger precariously positioned to fire.

“Make yourself useful,” he heard Reyes growl as his bleeding nose was forced against his clothed dick, “and I might return the favor.”

Carefully, slowly, Jesse raised his hands to undo his superior’s belt, avoiding any unexpected moves that might startle Reyes into accidentally squeezing the trigger. He freed his cock, thick and impressive even at half-mast, and licked a line along a vein that left saliva and blood in its wake. Jesse felt Reyes’ grip tighten in his scalp when he took the swollen head in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, feeling the flesh grow and stiffen from his ministrations. He pushed forward and slowly took in more, centimeter by centimeter, willing his jaw to adjust to the intrusion, mouth straining as his hand held the shaft at the base.

Reyes’ breathing grew shallow above him. “Enough playing around,” he bit out, and without any further warning he simultaneously pushed Jesse’s head forward and thrust into his mouth. Jesse gagged and blinked out hot tears that slid down his flushed cheeks. Burning pain seared down his gullet as the intrusion shoved against sensitive flesh. He was at his mentor’s mercy, helpless, controlled, and it was everything Jesse McCree wanted and needed at that moment, hard to the point of pain.

All he could do was let himself get used like some kind of obscene toy, Reyes' cock thrusting in and out of the tight, wet sleeve of his throat, drool and blood dripping down his chin as he held onto the ballistic padding at Reyes' thighs. Jesse was still acutely aware of the gun pressed against his forehead, the metal occasionally slipping along the sweat-slick skin, and some black shard stuck deep in his brain wondered if he'd actually pull the trigger.

“Look at you,” Reyes breathed cruelly, “My little ingrate, letting me fuck his face raw with a gun at his head... and I taught him to love _every second_ of it.”

His pace increased and his thrusts grew stronger, until every shove forced his cock down Jesse’s throat. It hurt, it burned, and it was so good that Jesse had to resist moaning and catching the attention of the others. This didn’t go unnoticed by Reyes, whose voice broke from exertion when he added, “What if someone found us like this? Would you try to stop me? _Could_ you stop me?”

Jesse made a strangled, keening sound in reply, and the vibration around his length made Reyes’ hips stutter. After three long, final thrusts, Reyes dropped his gun and held the kneeling man’s head in place with two strong hands. He surged forward until Jesse’s nose was crushed against his abdomen and he came hard down his throat, first in two hot spurts Jesse nearly gagged on, then withdrawing and unloading the rest in his abused mouth, a dribble of white searing a line down the corner of his lips.

Immediately after withdrawing his cock with an obscene _pop_ , Reyes placed one palm on top of Jesse’s head and moved the other beneath his chin, clamping his mouth shut.

“Swallow.”

With tear-streaked cheeks, Jesse cringed as he gulped down the last of Reyes’ thick, musky cum. It hurt like nothing else, his throat raw from having a dick constantly shoved in and out of it, and it was everything he hoped it would be.

In a strange gesture of tenderness, Reyes pawed Jessie’s damp hair off of his forehead, where a circular indentation had been left by his gun. Jesse finally managed to open his eyes and found Reyes staring down at him like he was the meaning of life itself, his pupils blown wide from post-orgasmic bliss. Jesse parted his lips and groaned when he realized how ruined he must look; face red, skin slick, dried blood caking his nose and a final droplet of semen seeping from the edge of his mouth. It also renewed his not-entirely-forgotten interest in his straining erection, which Reyes gently felt up with his foot.

“Come here,” the standing man offered as he manhandled Jesse into a position where he stood in front of him with his back to Reyes’ chest. He felt a gust of hot breath hit the shell of his ear as Reyes brusquely opened his fly and wrapped a large hand around Jesse's painfully hard cock. The leather of his glove was rough against his sensitive dick but it didn't matter--Jesse was already on the cusp of bliss, and nothing short of ripping his cock off was going to stave off his orgasm. It only took a few strong strokes before Jesse felt himself unravel, and when Reyes grabbed a tuft of hair and forced him to crane his head back into a suffocating kiss, Jesse’s vision whited out. His body coiled, tightened, and then it was over--he came hard into the empty space in front of them while Reyes split his bottom lip open with his teeth. If it weren’t for Reyes holding him in place, Jesse was sure he would’ve collapsed into a blissfully boneless heap. He allowed Reyes to suckle his sore lip until it stopped bleeding, relishing in the thought of Reyes tasting his blood, allowing another part of him to belong to his superior. The sensation of Reyes’ bristly mustache scratching against his face brought him pleasantly back to his senses, and Jesse nuzzled him.

“Reyes--” Jesse started hoarsely after he managed to gather his faculties, but the other man shushed him before he could say more. They righted themselves in silence and Jesse rubbed the blood and cum off his face while Reyes picked up his mud-caked shotgun with a deep frown, seemingly more concerned about his weapon. A moment later, without so much as a farewell, a thank you, or any other kind of acknowledgement, Reyes disappeared into the warehouse.

Just like that, the dance had ended and the clock began ticking again. Jesse found himself dropped back into reality like a sack of bricks, acutely aware that he was standing in a muddy puddle somewhere in Milan, and his life once again became a waiting game for _next time_. Maybe, he thought to himself as he picked up his hat and righted it on his head, the wait was part of their game, another measure of control Reyes lorded over him, another notch in Jesse’s metaphorical collar.

He smiled at that, despite himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited some minor prose-y things on 7/21/18.


End file.
